Tag: Africa

Talking about my trips to Africa as part of my work.

Fighting fascism — Day Thirty-one — reflections from Côte d’Ivoire

by Michel Welmond, posted in Uncategorized

I was on a personal visit to Côte d’Ivoire over the last week (just got home yesterday afternoon). It was fantastic to come back to Abidjan, where we lived for three years, and see old friends and colleagues. I loved rediscovering the rhythms, sounds and scents that carried us away while we lived here. It was great eating aloko, attieke, grilled chicken and fish, tasty mangos and papayas, eye-watering pepper sauce (pili-pili), and drinking ginger and bissap juice. Most everyone I know is ageing gracefully – although life remains hard for many.

What Ivoirians think about what is going on in the US might surprise you – it certainly surprised me. Of course, I did not do a formal survey. My observations reflect a smattering of conversations with people who told me what they think and/or what they think others think. So, take it as an impression rather than a generalized “truth”. Many seem to see Trump’s victory positively and this for four main reasons.

First, most believe that the new US administration could care less about Africa, and that is a good thing. That Côte d’Ivoire is considered a “shithole” country is just as well because Americans (and everyone else – as I will develop further) will then leave Africa alone and not use it for geopolitical advantages that have done Africans little good and a lot of bad. This conflates with the widespread anti-French sentiment that has increased considerably over the last few years. Ivoirians see Trump’s election as an embarrassment for the French. The argument goes something like this: the French are responsible for much that is wrong in Côte d’Ivoire; American policy has been to support the French in its oppression of Côte d’Ivoire; the Americans will no longer back France’s geopolitical strategy and Côte d’Ivoire will therefore benefit.

People are split about the second reason I will share here. Some friends adamantly believe that it is a widely held opinion, while others doubt that it is a significant factor. Basically, it consists of a negative narrative about development assistance. Money is stolen; ministers’ mistresses are driving around in 200,000 dollar cars (an actual scandal that filled pages here in Côte d’Ivoire); people’s lives are not getting any better even though lots of resources come here; there are too many strings attached (debt, being beholden to aid providers — again, a very strong anti-French discourse); and with no aid, governments will have to finally step in and do their job.

The third reason has to do with conservative social norms. Homophobia seems quite pervasive in Côte d’Ivoire. I don’t know what the legal status of LGBTQ+ is, but I’m assuming that it is not great. Trump is seen as some sort of return to morality, particularly defined by the rejection of the LGBTQ+ “agenda”. I have heard some resentment of the perceived push by the US (and the French) for African countries not to legislate against homosexuals, so the new administration’s rejection of LGBTQ+ protections is seen as some sort of redemption. Trump’s supposed religiosity has also been accepted by many here as genuine.

The last reason, is not really a reason, but rather a reflection on what contributes to the formation of the above ideas. Of course, it comes from social media – a social media that we know is often manipulated by government, outside powers, and those who cleverly express provocative opinions. People do not trust the mainstream media, and are attracted to the provocative unbridled style of influenciers. Also, I have heard that the Russians in particular are working hard to orient social media towards its anti-French rhetorical deluge.

I personally do not believe that America’s moral, diplomatic and strategic “abandonment” of Africa will allow a thousand flowers to grow. There are many others, within Africa and elsewhere, who are more than willing to take advantage of any void (China, Russia, Jihadists, and Rwanda, to name a few). Also, the drying up of development assistance will not be a positive for poor Africans. And moral indignation is always relative (the princely do often fall). However, the strategically organized rendition of social media does ring true. The question is why, in terms of content, form, and spirit is it so convincing. I don’t have an answer to that.

Taken together, the arguments are similar to the logical daisy-chains we have seen amongst MAGA supporters: government involvement (or that of foreign powers) in the lives of the every-person is both absent and too present; there is a “hidden agenda” that explains why there is so much suffering; money is leaking out of the government system and into the hands of the few; the fall of the outsider elite is a gleeful event; strongmen whose “hands are not tied” will set things straight (figuratively and metaphorically); and the “real truth” comes from dark, whispery corners (okay, some inordinately loud corners as well).

What does all this mean for the fight against fascism? Basically, we have formidable enemies when trying to win hearts and minds. They are organized not just nationally, but internationally. We must do better in terms of combatting the torrent of misinformation. I have written about the need for us to talk to people, even those we don’t agree with, as modest acts of anti-fascism. My short trip to Côte d’Ivoire confirmed for me the necessity of doing this.

Fair game

by Michel Welmond, posted in Africa Education, International Development

Sometimes I visit schools but it’s got a bit boring over the years because, despite my urging, my hosts usually want me to see several in a day, often no more than 1/2 hour per school.  During most visits, we walk around the site and visit a few classrooms.  Usually the school and the selected classrooms are dilapidated — government officials want to impressed upon me that the school (or by extension, the entire education system) needs more funds.  Or the school principal shows off a new laboratory or classroom or computer.  These rare displays are more heartening, but even in these cases, additional resources are requested in the name of “scaling up”.  It is fair game.  I represent an international organization after all and the needs are real. It’s just that these patent visits do blur together after a while.

School visits are more interesting when I can spend some time talking with teachers and students.  Normally, I only get to walk into a classroom for a few minutes.  The children stand up and say hello in unison.  “Bonjour monsieur”.  Sometimes they will chant a slogan or sing a patriotic song.  Always an uncomfortable moment with the adults holding forced smiles.  The teacher is usually nervous, sometimes irritated.  I’ll usually ask the teacher how many girls are in the class, what subject is presently being taught, how many kids have repeated their grade (sometimes I will take a poll).  I’ll stroll down the aisle (if there is one) and look at notebooks and textbooks. Sometimes (if time permits) I’ll ask one or two kids to recite a couple of lines from their books.  Then I ask them to explain what they’ve read.  They are usually scared witless.  I don’t think that I leave a very good impression of international organizations, Americans, white guys, or whatever.   What really ruins the mood is that I am accompanied by several government officials, who crowd the doorway and are nervous as hell that some one will say something embarrassing.  Very stressful for them, which is why they continuously want to move on to the next school.

A real school visit should last half a day because no one can keep up a facade for that long.  The conversation relaxes and I’m eventually ignored — after all, everyone has real jobs to do.  Government officials usually don’t have the patience for this kind of visit and after a while take off to hang out with local dignitaries over tea or lunch.  So I am thankfully left on my own.  I used to do more of this earlier in my career and when I was a doctoral student.  Time is more precious now, although spent hurriedly and ultimately badly.  I’ll wander around and chat with teachers, the principal, and others (the guard, the women who prepare lunch for the kids).

I’ll usually sit in the back a class for a while.  That’s probably where I learn the most.  The back rows are usually peopled with the ignored children: bad boys several years older than the others or listless kids with heads on folded arms.  Being with the older kids means I can hide behind the big ones and the teacher takes less notice of my presence.  I look over the sea of children and note that the prim and proper ones sitting in the front rows who are called on regularly whether their hands are up or not.  The middle rows are the most interesting.  Here are the boys who lunge across their desks with hands stretched towards the teacher,  “Hey, ooh, ooh” — the most hyper jump out of their seats.   The girls also raise their hands but less theatrically.  The best teachers can handle the middle masses like an orchestra.  Most struggle in a state of exasperation, spinning between the blackboard and then scanning the rows for the one who said something rude while their backs were turned. Some are tired and irritable and spend a lot of time yelling inconsequentially.  Most are trying really really hard to make a difference.

I say my goodbyes and there is a sense of camaraderie.  But even at the end of these visits there are expectations.  “So will you be able to fix the latrines? Give us books? Build a wall or fence to keep the thieves out?  Computers? Teacher quarters?” I respond with banal and vague promises that we will be helping the entire school system and that these benefits will cascade downwards to their schools.  A glint of disappointment, or “at least we tried”.  It’s fair game.

Next time I’ll describe a visit I made to a school in Cameroon about a year ago.